


Yellow-eyed Stray.

by CreamcheeseBagel



Series: Colour me Black, Blue and Yellow. [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Alfred Pennyworth, Batfamily (DCU), Batfamily (DCU) Feels, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Copious Amounts Of Swearing, Dick Grayson is a Talon, Fluff and Angst, Hurt Dick Grayson, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, No Smut, Poor Jason Todd, Pre-Robin Dick Grayson, Pre-Robin Jason Todd, Protective Dick Grayson, Swearing, Talon Dick - Freeform, alfred is a g, jason is also a broke bitch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-02-24 16:33:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21901015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CreamcheeseBagel/pseuds/CreamcheeseBagel
Summary: Jason, street rat extraordinaire and self-claimed broke bitch, saw a prime opportunity to make some easy money when he stumbled across the Batmobile.He didn't account for the Talon that crashed landed on its roof and into his life.Talon!Dick. Batfamily.Now includes an epilogue featuring Tim Drake.
Relationships: Batfamily Members & Dick Grayson, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Jason Todd
Series: Colour me Black, Blue and Yellow. [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1756963
Comments: 9
Kudos: 333





	1. Chapter 1

Jason moved easily through Crime Alley, only occasionally slipping in his ill-gotten and oversized boots, his primary aim to get into the main district and flee back to his hole in the wall.  
  
He sported a blossoming bruise on his forehead, another new addition to his bruised complexion. His dyed and greasy black hair he tucked beneath a hood. He hunkered in on himself, fists shoved deep into his jeans, backpack jostling. It was yet another typical night for the teenager, as he once again slunk through back alleys with fingers itching to relieve civilians of their valuables.

A grunt and scuffle echoed deep within the alley. The noise came from overhead. Jason scurried on quicker. He couldn’t quite tell if he was moving towards or away from the fray.

Body taut and ready for trouble, Jason almost screamed when his boot scuffed a tyre. It was only then did he lift his eyes from his laces and stare wide eyed, open mouthed, disbelieving, at the armoured vehicle haphazardly parked. The Batmobile stood grandiose and alone within the mouth, and exit, to Crime Alley. It’s tinted windows spoke of unobtainable affluence.

Jason gingerly ran his fingers over the tyre he had kicked, marvelling at the thick tread. He dropped into a squat, his backpack now open at his feet. His favourite, and most reliable weapon and tool called for him. Jason pulled the tyre iron free with barely a thought. Consequences be damned; if he could steal a tyre or two, from the Batmobile no less, he could live like a king and actually buy himself a pizza. His mouth watered.

The curved metal pipe was warm in his hands. Jason stretched to apply it to the wheel, smiling when it locked in place. He began to apply pressure.

A whistle split the air, an inhuman cry. Jason swivelled his head, neck straining to scour the smog high above.

A mass of black slammed against the Batmobile. Jason scrambled backwards, a yelp lodged in his throat. The Batmobile shuddered under the heap atop it. Jason couldn’t tear his eyes away from the crumpled body atop the roof, with twisted limbs that jerked and snapped in the throes of death.

Yellow goggles swivelled to stare. The body lurched upwards, still seated, its neck grinding quickly back in place.

Jason screamed. He threw himself to his feet, tyre iron clutched to his chest. He stumbled away, whispering apologies.

The stranger rolled from the roof, landing in a crouch. No longer a body but a leather wrapped man adorned with knives and claws.

Jason had never believed in tall tales, had never had a parent hold him close and whisper stories to keep him in line. But everyone had heard of the Court of Owls. So omnipotent they couldn’t truly exist. Yet in that moment of staring hard into yellow lenses, taking stock of the golden tipped claws and owl motif; Jason wholeheartedly understood.

The Talon didn’t move towards Jason yet its head tilted as if questioning the young man’s appearance. Jason watched it pivot on a heel, claws brandished, and knew the fight was about to get uglier.

Batman dropped into the alley, a swift kick sending the Talon into the gloom. Jason couldn’t move.

‘Do _not_ steal my tyres,’ Batman growled, stalking away from Jason as he shivered in fear.

Jason gasped hard, pulled from his trance. He followed on hollow legs, numbly watching the two silhouetted figures battle. The Talon leapt high, arching overhead, using the brick walls as vantage points. He reminded Jason of an aerial-acrobatics troupe he had once watched in awe. Batman went low, fighting dirty as the Talon pushed him harder.

Black droplets leaked beneath the Talon’s cracked lenses. It smeared along Batman’s jaw as the Talon desperately batted at the crusaders face, claws gone.

With a feral growl Batman had won; he smashed his cowl down hard on the Talon. Jason flinched at the headbutt. The Talon tumbled backwards.

‘Step away from it. Now!’ Batman barked, advancing like a speeding train.

The gravelly voice brokered no argument, but Jason knew in his bones that when someone fell that usually meant the end of the fight. Yet Batman stormed onwards, cloak swishing, his blackened mouth a thin line.

Jason brandished the tyre iron like a sword and swung it experimentally. Batman stopped, staring. The Talon lay between them, chest still.

‘D-don’t come any closer!’ Jason heard himself cry. He saw the tyre iron bounce harmlessly off Batman’s outstretched arm. ‘Stop!’.

‘Kid, you don’t understand the da-'

Batman fell silent and Jason allowed himself a small smile. Had he honestly silenced Batman?

‘With me-' the muffled voice was hot against his neck, desperate and low. Jason could feel the press of steel to his throat before he understood that death had snared him. ‘With me!’ the Talon continued, one arm snaked around Jason’s waist like a lover, the second tight around his throat. The knife never wavered.

Jason hadn’t even seen the Talon move from the space between him and Batman. He shivered against the hard body behind him, a unexpected chill settling in his stomach.

‘Let the brat go, Talon. Your fight is with me'.

The Talon slipped backwards, jerking Jason with it.

‘Hey!’ Jason cried, hands scrabbling at the thick arm. ‘Dick!’ he spat, clawing desperately.

The body behind him flinched, Jason could feel the movement in his spine. He froze against the arm trapping him, too scared to breathe.

‘What?’ the Talon croaked, grip tightening.

Jason flushed. His mouth opened before his mind could shut it. ‘I said..you’re a dick! Dickhead. Let me go. I tried to stop him!’. Jason thrashed then, confused and angry. It was only when the faintest of noises tickled his ear did he stop.

Jason watched in horror as the blade at his throat flew through the air, stopping only in Batman’s upper thigh. The blade sunk deep. Batman slid backwards.

The Talon whirled and fled with Jason pinned to his chest. At the lip of the alley Jason squeezed his eyes shut, feeling the thud of movement as he was taken further into the underbelly.

Time was nothing as he moved through the darkness, stomach churning and palms sweaty. At some point he was slung over the things shoulder with a grunt, and the pair moved faster. He imagined this was how it felt to close your eyes on a rollercoaster, never quite knowing when the next drop would take you.

‘Open eyes.’

Jason obeyed the order, blinking upwards quickly into the night sky. He sat unscathed, and only annoyed, atop a rooftop. He huddled behind the chimney stacks against the biting wind. The figure crouched before him, too far to reach, its goggled gaze cracked.

‘What. The. Fuck?’ Jason breathed, breathe short and giddy. He flexed his fingers and wiggled his toes, alive but not alone. ‘Why did you kidnap me?’ he shouted, jumping to his feet. The anger came easily, spurred on by his embarrassment. ‘Where the hell am I? Who are you? Why the fuck was Batman kicking your arse?’.

The Talon shifted slowly before standing sharply. It towered over Jason, who at seventeen was still too undernourished to grow any taller.

‘Batman. Dangerous.’

Jason guwaffed.

‘Hiding,’ the avian like creature continued in a rasp.

Jason sunk to his haunches, not trusting his legs. The wind cried around him. The Talon stood impassively, immobile against the breeze.

‘I-I can’t stay here,’ Jason said. ‘I need to get home. Away from you. Away from Batman'. Jason moved from the chimney stacks. He missed the familiarity of his backpack. He glanced around the open air quickly. ‘I need to get down. Please, just get me down. Safely. And I’ll never tell anyone about this. Batman could beat me for all I care, and I still wouldn’t say anything!’.

The Talon nodded stiffly. ‘Not target.’

‡‡‡

Jason collapsed onto the mouldy mattress, hard, burying his face in the stained fabric. The door to his current squat squealed shut and he allowed himself a single tear. A lone frustrated tear for having lost his two only possessions, aside from the clothes on his back. The mattress wasn’t even his.

‘Fuck. Off!’ he grumbled into the mattress, knowing the Talon lingered in the room. He was too tired to feel scared, too irate to worry about a knife in his spine. He rolled to sit and glared at the unwanted guest now that he was relatively safe. ‘Can’t you see I’m having a moment? I don’t even have anything to nick. So just go.’

‘No,’ the Talon said, sitting against the door. It tore the mask free with a sigh and tossed it into a corner. ‘No security.’

Jason inhaled sharply at the spidery blue veins encircling the eyes, luminous branches of colour that snaked towards golden irises. The Talon blinked slowly, pupils becoming slits.

‘Your eyes are yellow!’ Jason said dumbly.

The Talons lips quirked. ‘Yes,’ it replied with no inflection to the affirmation. The Talon’s face became impassive. ‘You,’ it rasped, brow wrinkling. ‘Blue. Green.’

Jason ducked his head, cheeks warming. He shook himself and frowned back. This was his domain.  
The Talon looked young, older than himself but young enough to be unaffected by wrinkles or crow’s feet. He too had short black hair, sweaty and unruly. The Talon looked lithe and coiled beneath the tight leather suit, despite seemingly at ease against the door.

'I guess you really are a Talon. I always thought they were dumb bed time stories. For snot nosed kids who had it too good. But you really are here.’

The Talon didn't move to acknowledge the statement.

‘Why are you still _here_?’

The Talon shrugged a shoulder, pressing backwards against the door.

‘You talk an awful lot,’ Jason hissed, but the stranger didn’t rise to the barb. Jason slapped a hand to his forehead, his bruise throbbing. ‘Look. Dick,’ the Talon seemed to lean forwards at the words. ‘Thanks for not letting Batman eat me. But also, no thanks for the knife,’ he mimed slitting his throat, ‘and the kidnapping. What’s your game exactly?’

‘Batman. Mission. Not you.’

‘Woah hold on…’ Jason edged closer, now sitting at the edge of the bare mattress. He pointed unafraid. ‘I saw an opportunity for easy money. You fell onto the Batmobile and fucked _my_ plans up. Are you easing me into some false sense of security before taking me back to your nest?’

The Talon searched the room lazily, movements mechanic and snappy. Jason was about to entertain the idea of climbing out the window when the Talon spoke slowly.

‘Dick.’

Jason laughed then. ‘ _Excuse you?’_

The Talon nodded as though it were absorbing the words, mulling them over. ‘No,’ it amended, tapping it’s chest and nodding back at Jason. ‘Said Dick.’

Jason chewed his lip. ‘I called you _a_ dick.’

The Talon unpeeled his gloves carefully and tossed the remaining blades aside. He placed his hands in his laps and crossed his legs. Jason wasn’t sure if he should feel comforted by that or insulted.

‘Is…is that your name or something?’

A ghost of a smile tugged eerily at the Talon’s stony face. ‘No,’ it whispered. ‘Talon. Gray Son.’

Jason felt like he’d missed the joke. He shifted awkwardly. ‘Kinda rhymes with my name. I’m Jason.’ He clenched his fists. ‘Jason Todd, uh, if we’re being formal.’ He opened his arms to the single room, naked bar the mattress and tattered curtains. ‘My humble abode.’

‘Nest fallen. Batman.’

Jason crossed his arms, resisting the newest urge to pick up the knives and run his fingers across the blades.

‘Batman destroyed your home?’ Jason asked, pulled into the conversation once again.

The Talon tapped a short rhythm into his knees, ignoring the question.

‘Nest, I mean. Batman destroyed your nest, and now. Now you want revenge?’ Jason yawned into his hand, not meaning to, and pulled his hoodie tighter around himself.

‘Last mission,’ the Talon mused. He tapped his chin, a finger tracing blue lines. ‘Then sleep.’

‘I hear ya. Need some shut eye myself,’ Jason crinkled his nose, eyes watering at swallowing another yawn. ‘But I don’t know _or_ trust you….’

The Talon, Gray Son, gave a small smile as though mirroring what he thought a smile should look like. ‘Jason,’ he said like gravel crunching underfoot, ‘not mission.’


	2. Chapter 2

Jason stretched like a cat, rolling his aching limbs and star fishing. The mattress had nothing on his morning breath.

‘Awake.’

Jason startled at the words, on his feet and poised for a fight. The Talon, Gray Son, smiled thinly up at him from his place on the floor. It looked as though he hadn’t moved all night or morning. But Jason’s hungry eyes found an unfamiliar backpack beside him. Jason swallowed thickly.

‘You got some sort of bomb with you? Torture tools?’

‘No,’ Gray Son replied quietly, moving the backpack onto the mattress. Jason eyed the dark navy fabric warily. ‘Hungry.’

Jason snorted. Of course the weird assassin would have had to hear his stomach growling throughout the night. Either that or he wanted to fatten him up before taking him home to be feasted on, Jason’s mind supplied viciously. He cautiously unzipped the bag, his eyes growing wide and desperate at the assortment of foods.

‘You…you actually got me food?’

‘Give thanks,’ Gray Son nodded, his yellow gaze pinpointed on Jason like a laser. He blinked slowly, watching as Jason slowly unwrapped a sandwich.

Not wanting to appear too needy, too grateful to the stranger, Jason grunted back. He marvelled at the soft bread, savouring the fluffiness. He gave a thumbs up and Gray Son eased backwards, tucking his legs under him.

‘Are you not hungry?’ Jason asked with a smack of his lips. ‘There’s enough here to last me a week. Have some.’

Gray Son accepted a chocolate bar gingerly, unpeeling the wrapper as though he were diffusing a bomb. Jason watched as the mans pale hands appeared to shake.

‘Eat up.’ Jason encouraged, genuinely pleased he was eating a fresh meal. He wanted to share the spoils. ‘You’ve earned it.’

‘Earned it,’ Gray Son parroted back, expression composed. He tore a chunk from the chocolate and swallowed it, gulping noisily before poking his tongue out. Jason stared dumbfounded into the Talon’s maw, watching as black bile began to pool on its tongue.

Gray Son spluttered, chocolate bar taking a nose-dive, and regurgitated the slick black into his hands. The liquid dripped between its fingers, plinking against the aged floorboards.

‘Shit,’ Jason breathed, already fighting his way out of his hoodie to mop at the mess. ‘Are you okay?’ he flinched at the feel of the liquid, thick enough to be blood but the black didn’t compute. ‘Is this sick?’

Gray Son moved to snatch the chocolate bar back up and Jason swatted his hand away. ‘What are you doing?’

‘Showing thanks,’ Gray Son stated moving away from Jason’s filthy hand. ‘Eat up.’

Jason could have drowned himself in the liquid. Instead he breathed deep, exhaled harder, and wiped at the Talon’s face, feeling like the worst person on the planet. ‘Don’t do everything I tell you to,’ he grumbled, rubbing harder at the ink. ‘I’m sorry if you can’t eat.’

Grayson didn’t react, and Jason ignored the awkward silence. He no longer felt like eating.

‘I’m sorry, again. I’m kinda a broke bitch, so I don’t have anything you can wear,’ he gestured at the stained leather outfit Gray Son still wore, ashamed he hadn’t noticed the ripped and dirty fabric the night before. ‘Such a bad host. I know.’ He spoke to himself, filling the gaps, until the Talon placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently.

Jason pulled away and slipped back into the hoodie. The smell was indescribable from it’s usual layer of grime and sweat. The now blackened sleeves pulled at his chest.

‘Guess we both need new clothes now…’

Gray Son helped Jason to his feet, opening and closing his mouth around a sentence he couldn’t articulate. After a few moments of staring over Jason’s shoulder he tapped both his own chest and Jason’s.

‘New. Clothes.’

‘Yeah, we need new clothes. But in case it wasn’t clear. They’re kinda hard to come by.’

Gray Son raised his eyebrows, wiggling them until Jason smirked. ‘Steal.’

‘You’re not very subtle,’ Jason sighed making goggles out of his fingers and hooting. ‘Like headlights coming at ya.’

‘Rude,’ Gray Son said and flicked Jason’s new backpack filled with food over his shoulder. ‘Broke bitch.’

Jason snorted. Gray Son’s lips quirked. Jason laughed harder, clutching at his sides. He hadn’t laughed so hard or genuinely in a long time.

‘You’re alright,’ Jason wheezed, wiping the last of his tears. ‘Dick.’

‡‡‡

Jason babbled endlessly as the pair slunk through Crime Alley and beyond. He probed and fired questions whilst they stole, and marvelled each time he got further than a one word response. All in all, he was drawn to Gray Son. He wanted to know everything.

Jason was also astounded at the ease the man could, and did, steal, as though it were easier than breathing. He supposed it was infact true as Gray Son had admitted to not necessarily needing to breathe as much as a functioning human would.

By the time midday had come and gone, Jason was decked out in the best fitting jeans he had ever worn. His hoodie had been replaced after a few tears. Even Gray Son sported an updated wardrobe with a pair of aviators Jason had forced on his face, and an oversized jumper that swaddled him. Apparently the leather jumpsuit was not coming off, come Hell or highwater, so Jason had relented and Gray Son had become a statement around the city.  
If he were honest the jumper and leather combination suited Grayson well, and it certainly didn’t hurt that the sex workers had promised Jason extra cigarettes if his _brother_ hung about.

The older ladies had nattered about Gray Son’s physique, undressing him with their eyes, and compared him to long gone gymnasts and ballet dancers.

Despite the circumstances surrounding Gray Son crashing into Jason’s life, Jason hadn’t felt this calm in a long time. He could take the fascination with Gray Son’s appearance at his side on the chin, for now.


	3. Chapter 3

Jason leaned heavily on the fire-escape, arms dangling over the railings. He watched sex workers stomp about corners, batting away cat-calls and skirting away from cars that looked too expensive to be cruising in the underbelly. It paid to be as safe as one possibly could. Jason inhaled the cigarette, menthol tip numbing his lower lip. He could hear Gray Son moving around the only useable room in his makeshift home, squatters having decimated the once pristine flat years before.

Jason exhaled the plume of smoke, watching it drift to join the smog laden sky.

Gray Son had been with Jason for over a week now, both flying undisturbed. The thoughts and accompanying anxiety of it all hadn’t left Jason however. He waited each night, with dread in his stomach, for Batman to climb through the window and take Gray Son from him.

The metal beneath him groaned, Gray Son having allowed Jason to hear him. Gray Son perched on the railings like a bird of prey, slitted pupils narrowed against the bright lights of the world beneath them.

‘Gray Son,’ Jason whispered, flicking the cigarette away. Gray Son tilted his head minutely. ‘If I asked you to stay. Would you?’

‘No,’ Gray Son answered honestly and Jason itched for another cigarette. However Gray Son turned his head fully to grace Jason with another, more genuine, smile.

Jason tried to return the smile, but his heart wasn’t in it.

‘Batman,’ Gray Son stated, yellow eyes flashing. _‘Hunts_.’

Jason fished another cigarette from the crumpled box and twirled it between his fingers. ‘You haven’t gone looking for Batman. That’s a sign, isn’t it?’

‘New nest,’ Gray Son said, plucking the cigarette from Jason’s hand. ‘Secure first.’

In that same week Jason’s already chaotic life had been turned upside down, and inside out, he’d grown fond of the Talon. He wasn’t stupid, or idealistic, he knew Gray Son would leave him one way or another. However amongst the fear of Batman looming, he had childishly hoped that Gray Son would stay with him, for him.

‘If I told you to stay. Would you?’

Gray Son flicked the cigarette high over the railings, pupils widening and snapping thin. ‘Yes.’

Swiping at his itchy eyes, Jason withdrew into the jumper he’d pinched from Gray Son. Every fibre of his being told him to be careful what he wished for; Gray Son was still a Talon before the whimsical idea of an adopted brother. He could never cage him and be able to live with himself.

‘I _can’t_ tell you to stay,’ Jason could feel the tears then, washing tracks of grime from his face. ‘But I’d be a fucking liar if I didn’t want you to.’

Gray Son unfurled himself from the railing top and leaned beside Jason, a frozen hand atop Jason’s.

‘Fucking look at me!’ Jason hiccupped, squeezing Gray Son’s hand as hard as he could. ‘I make one friend and I go all sentimental.’

‘Jason…’

Jason’s breathed hitched as he looked at Gray Son’s face. He raised a hand tentatively. Poorly applied concealer came away black against his thumb.

‘You’re crying…’

Gray Son nodded and with each slow blink a new trickle of black slipped from his eyes.

‡‡‡

The night was crystal clear to Gray Son's enhanced irises. He leapt high above the rooftops, eyes forward and never down. Racing cars and neon signs blinking erratically would send pains deep behind his eyes but it was worth it to hear Jason screaming bloody murder in his ear.

Gray Son had chosen to leave his belongings at Jason’s humble abode, knowing it would buy them time. The only thing he allowed himself to take was Jason, who clung to his back like an over-excited child, and a backpack full of money.

There was no primal fear as he took risky jumps, he never failed to make the leap or catch ledges. The thrill of the open air, the trust in his limbs. Gray Son almost felt alive as he soared beneath the watchful eye of the Bat Signal.

He had reasoned, challenged himself for days, that once he could affirm the safety of Jason he would see to his mission. As one of the only remaining Talons, and through Jason’s many questions, Gray Son had come to realise that although he held the final mission as sacred- if he failed, he could be terminated on his own terms.

‘Land there!’ Jason screamed above the wind and buried his face again. Pulled from his musings, Gray Son spring boarded between chimneys and landed neatly in an alley Jason had seemingly recognised.

Safely on his feet Jason hunched over, hands on knees, and vomited on his boots. Gray Son rubbed a chilled hand in circular motions on the young mans back, a mockery of a memory, until Jason sprung back up pale faced and rearing to go.

‘Minus the vomit. That was fucking awesome.’

Gray Son nodded, the ghost of acrobatics never quite drowned.

‘Ears like a bat, I tell ya,’ Jason rambled, already wiping himself down to continue their escape. ‘Hang on. Why’s the bag filled with money?’ he spun on Gray Son, anger clear in his clenched jaw. ‘What the hell is this?’

Gray Son pushed the backpack into Jason’s chest, hard.

‘No. You don’t get to clam up now. Gray Son, what the fuck does this mean? Tell me!’

Gray Son could feel the pull from the tips of his toes, the words racing upwards to spear his brain. He sucked in his cheeks, biting hard into the flesh.

‘Tell me!’ Jason screamed swinging the open backpack like a madman. Money fluttered around them.

Lips unpeeling, Gray Son choked on the words. ‘Better life ­­--- for Jason.’

‘No,’ Jason laughed, eyes bright. He upturned the bag. ‘Fuck this money and fuck you. If we leave, we leave together.’

Swallowing the desire to wrap the younger man in his arms and soothe him, Gray Son stood firm and schooled his face. ‘No. Talon leaves.’

Jason punched him then.

Gray Son accepted the broken nose. He allowed the momentum to carry him backwards, to knock his head against brickwork. He tasted his own defiled blood between his teeth. Cartilage slid beneath the skin, healing him within moments.

In that moment he wished he knew where the Electrum had been hidden inside him, so he could claw it out.

‘You’re a fucking idiot!’ Jason screamed, breaking his knuckles against Gray Son’s face. ‘Can’t you see? I don’t want you to die.’ Gray Son didn’t know what to do about Jason’s tears. ‘Fuck Batman. Fuck what _they_ did to you. You said- you said you had to secure your nest before you could leave. Well without you, I don’t have a nest. I have a shitty mattress, and my thoughts andandand…’

Jason wailed like a dying animal, sucking in sharp breaths.

‘The Court has gone, right?’ Jason heaved, eyes desperate and searching. ‘You can set your own mission. They weren’t your family. They stole you and hurt you. Fuck, they destroyed you.’

‘Talon now.’

‘No, no,’ Jason sobbed, broken hand trailing blood. ‘You’re Gray Son. My weird leather wearing friend.’ Jason laughed at himself, uninjured hand fisted in Gray Son’s jumper. ‘You have thoughts and feelings. And you deserve to be free.’

Gray Son pulled Jason close, begging his frozen body to provide even a sliver of comfort.

He closed his eyes and inhaled the scent of Jason and opened his eyes to the Batman in the shadows.


	4. Chapter 4

Jason clung to Gray Son, one-armed he wrestled the man into submission. He cried his loneliness, his pain, his love, into the unmoving man before him. He wanted so badly for Gray Son to choose to stay, to make the decision that he deserved a chance at life.

Jason didn’t want to be alone again.

‘Jason,’ Gray Son growled, body tense. ‘Move!’ he ordered spinning to slam Jason into the wall. As soon as Jason could comprehend his position he found himself staring down at a crouched Gray Son, his body language defensive. He reached to reassure Gray Son, and flinched at the swish of a cloak.

Batman seeped from the shadows, lenses narrowed deep in the cowl.

Every tense night had accumulated in this moment. 

Gray Son snarled and spat, a world away from who Jason had come to know.

‘No,’ Jason heard himself whisper. He repeated himself, voice husky and low. ‘You can’t take him.’

Batman made a noise deep in his throat and Gray Son responded by dipping lower. Neither moved.

‘You can’t,’ Jason shouted. He shoved Gray Son aside and planted himself between the pair. Yellow eyes bored into his skull. ‘You,’ he breathed, composing himself. ‘You are not taking, Gray Son.’

A muscle clenched alarmingly in Batman’s jaw.

‘You destroyed The Court. But over my dead body are you taking him.’ Jason ignored his full body tremble. ‘You’ll have to kill me first. And if you don’t you’ll fucking wish you had.’

‘Jason,’ Gray Son said in Batman’s silence. ‘Talon leaves.’

‘And you can fucking shut up and all.’ Jason spat. ‘Whoever Gray Son was before, he’s still in there. You can see that! I’ve been with him a week and he hasn’t hurt me.’

‘Not innocents.’

Jason whirled, jabbing a finger in Gray Son’s chest. ‘Gray Son if you don’t let me fight your corner, I swear I will break my other hand too.’ Jason shoved him back for good measure. Yellow eyes blinked quickly at him. ‘Whatever happens tonight, I am not leaving you.’

‘You don’t have a choice,’ Batman growled and Jason pivoted back, nostrils flaring.

‘Fuck. You. Just you try and take my choice away, old man. Clean your ears out. Gray Son stays with me.’

Batman ground his teeth.

Jason slammed his wrists together, wincing. ‘Gonna take him away and lock him up? Cuff me to, Batman. Throw away the key.’

‘I only want the Talon. Dramatics aren't necessary.’

‘Says the man in the bat costume,’ Jason quirked a brow. ‘Now, what’s it gonna be? Cause we're a package deal. Buy one get one free.’

‘The Talon,’ Batman growled, and Jason’s stomach flipped. The Batman moved forwards, arm outstretched to move Jason aside.

‘Wait,’ Jason cried, bravado in his boots. He leapt, snatching Batman’s arm. ‘I can get him contacts. I swear. Don’t take him away from me.’ Jason tugged and pulled at the armoured sleeve, digging his heels in. ‘He deserves a future.’

Gray Son danced around Batman, gently prying Jason from him. As soon as he released Jason, Gray Son leapt away and kneeled before Batman. Defeated, Jason watched horrified as Gray Son offered up his neck.

‘Terminate me.’

If Jason was certain he could talk about what he saw, what he had been through, he was certain he would be carted off never to be seen again. As soon as the words had left Gray Son’s lips Batman drew forwards, his cloak falling around Gray Son. The Batman took Gray Son’s jaw tenderly in a glove, mouth moving around words too low for Jason to hear, and shot Jason’s only friend square in the chest.

Gray Son seized up, hands scrabbling at his chest, before slumping sideways into Batman’s arm.

Jason couldn’t look anywhere but Gray Son’s slumped form. He lay deathly still in Batman’s arm, childlike.

‘You killed him.’

Batman pulled Gray Son to his chest, bridal style. Gray Son’s head lulled backwards, mouth turned upwards in a smile.

‘Give him back,’ Jason snarled moving on wooden legs. ‘You killed him. You monster.’

‘A modified tranquiliser dose-‘

Jason tripped on his boots and sprawled into an outstretched arm.

‘I’m taking Dick home.’

Jason slumped, exhausted, against Batman’s chest, his unbloodied hand clutched Gray Son’s ankle.

‘Gray Son needs me.’

Batman grunted an affirmative. ‘He does and he will.’

‘Please don’t take him away.’

‘Jason,’ Batman replied, his words reverberating through his chest. ‘Many years ago I tried to save Dick. I wasn’t able to do that. Let me take you both home.’

‘Am I being kidnapped, again?’ Jason asked, disappointed he couldn't share the laugh with Gray Son.

‘I believe A would call it adoption,’ Batman growled and Jason squeezed Gray Son’s ankle. ‘But we have a Talon to rehabilitate first.’

‘I think Dick would like that.’


	5. Epilogue.

Jason had never had a real mobile before, or certainly not one he could safely say wasn’t stolen or loaned. He browsed the internet freely, not limited to library hours, devouring online books and videos. He shared videos he found funny with Alfred, hovering around him until he caught a smile or twinkle of the eye.

Alfred was everything Jason had ever imagined a Grandad to be. His words final, but never threatening. He was the true patriarch of The Manor. But unlike Bruce, Jason found Alfred more open and compelling. Jason was drawn to his warmth, his astonishing cooking, his everything. Jason hadn’t felt hungry since his new life and he would be eternally grateful to Alfred.

_The Batmobiles tyres spun out, squealing. Jason clamped his hands over his ears as Batman pulled him from the vehicle._

_An older man, dressed as a stereotypical butler if Jason had ever seen one, ran to the trio. He looked immaculate._

_‘Master Jason,’ the butler greeted, extending a hand. ‘It’s nice to meet you. Shall we take a look at your broken hand?’_

_Jason stammered at the title, at the aging man before him and the grandeur of the Batcave beyond him. He took the mans hand in his good one and squeezed._

_‘Jason Todd,’ he replied, not letting go. The butler clapped another hand over his and smiled gently. ‘Screw my hand though,’ the butler quirked an amused brow, ‘I want to know where the hell he’s taking Dick.’_

_‘The infirmary, my dear boy. No harm will come to you, or Master Dick.’_

_Flushed but reluctant, Jason pulled away from the touch._

_‘Now, Master Jason. Shall I make you something to eat whilst I take a look at your hand? You have my word that you’ll know when Master Dick awakes.’_

Jason stretched backwards on the library floor, smiling fondly at the memory. Alfred had been true to his word then and now. He’d bundled Jason into the kitchen, set his hand, fed him a soup he could have died for, and held him when he cried. It was Alfred who had introduced Jason to the world of reading, having given up months ago on shooing him from the kitchen and instead asking if Jason would like to read to him whilst he cooked.

Bruce Wayne was a trickier puzzle for Jason to comprehend.

Jason groaned and dropped his current read on his face.

He had taken the Batman in his stride, having explored every nook and cranny of the Batcave as soon as he could; frantically touching everything he could see and grumbling when he couldn’t. It was the man beneath the mask Jason had still not fully thawed to.

_Jason stood in awe, craning his neck at the sheer amount of chandelier he was seeing._

_‘There’s a metaphor here somewhere,’ Jason joked as Bruce came to stand beside him. ‘But, how’s Dick doing?’_

_Bruce moved away. ‘Meditating.’_

_Jason followed, infringing on Bruce. ‘I want to see him.’_

_Bruce turned on his heel. ‘Not yet, chum.’_

_With those final words, Jason was left alone beneath the chandelier._

Jason groaned harder and sat up, catching the book before it could fall. He jumped up and shook himself. He wondered if it were Bruce who hadn’t thawed to him.

‘Jason?,’ Dick, not Gray Son, queried from the doorway. He shuffles in swaddled in a blanket. Jason snorts at the novelty shades perched on his nose.

With his first real taste of money, Jason had found himself buying heavy blankets and novelty shades for Dick. As Dick began to bloom he walked straighter, with a confidence Jason wished to master. He looked handsome, having rediscovered a childhood expertise in applying makeup. Only the garish pineapple shades and Wonder Woman blanket spoiled the image today.  
However with each layer that eroded away, no one could honestly say they would have Dick any other way. Even Bruce could be caught smiling into his coffee, crows feet crinkling, as Dick cartwheeled through the kitchen with Jason in tow. Only Bruce and Dick spoke of their entwined pasts together, tucked away from prying ears. No one openly lamented the Dick Grayson that had been lost; not even Dick who patiently threw himself in classes left right and centre, until his lilt had lifted and he spoke clearly.

‘What’s up, dickiebird?’

Dick swooped into the room, taking dramatic lunges. Jason wished he’d kept his phone on him for an impromptu photo shoot.

‘Care to let my kick your butt in training?’

‘In your dreams, _dick._ ’

‡‡‡

Cutting words and another argument with Bruce, albeit one sided, had Jason haunting the Manor grounds with a cigarette in hand. He stomped to the boundary and stubbed the butt against the brickwork, seething.

‘Mind the trellis,’ a well spoken voice snipped. Tim Drake, the neighbouring child of wealth and a pain in Jason’s neck, sat atop the wall with camera in hand. Jason crinkled his nose at the sheer extravagance of the device.

‘The fuck you doing, kid?’

Tim kicked his legs and tucked the camera away. ‘Hiding from the Nanny.’ Jason rolled his eyes and raised a brow for the frequent visitor to elaborate. ‘Your gardens are nicer too…’

‘If you wanted to run around the roses, you could just knock and ask Alfred.’

It was a game the pair had fallen into. Jason would spy his neighbour climbing trees, scaling the walls with camera in tow. Once or twice Tim had even shared his candid snaps of Alfred’s gardens from an aerial view; Tim too awkward to ask to be invited over and Jason too guarded to offer.

‘Where’s the other ward?’ Tim asked, battling to keep his fringe out of his eyes.

Jason narrowed his eyes. ‘You spying on us with a telescope now?’

Tim had the grace to look ashamed. He pulled at his jumpers sleeves.

‘No. I just,’ Tim shuffled on his spot, dangerously close to toppling over the wall. ‘Sometimes I see him in the gardens. He’s like an acrobat. Or a ninja. He seems kind of cool.’

Jason twirled the lighter around his fingers, watching Tim reproduce the camera and toggle with the buttons. Neither said anything as Tim pointed the camera downwards at Jason and snapped a picture.

‘So, you’re the photographer.’

Jason startled at Dick’s voice, coughing against a heavy lungful of smoke. Tim yelped, the flash of his camera sounding as he careened off the wall.

‘Shit!’ Jason cried, spinning on Dick as Tim finally gained entry onto The Manor grounds. ‘Dick, are you okay?’

Seeing Dick bent double, pawing at his eyes sent Jason’s heart pounding. The flamingo shades lay snapped at his feet.

Dick flinched away, eyes screwed shut.

‘Is he okay?’ Tim wheezed, discarding his broken camera to limp forwards. ‘Are you okay? I’m really sorry.’ Jason whirled on Tim, seeing red.

‘You little prick,’ Jason snatched Tim by his front and shook him. ‘You nearly blinded him.’

‘Jason,’ Dick groaned with one eye peeling open. ‘I’ll be okay,’ he said, friendly but firm. Jason relented when Dick pulled him away from Tim and set his yellow eyes on the amateur photographer. ‘It was my fault really. I shouldn’t have spooked you.’

‘Who does he think he is, the paps?’ Jason growled from behind Dick, pointing his lighter at Tim like a gun. ‘No flash photography idiot.’

Dick moved gracefully between the pair, gently nudging Jason further behind him. He extended a pale hand. ‘Hi, let’s start over. I’m Richard but you can call me Dick. Don’t worry about Jason, he can be a little protective. I’m sorry about your camera.’

Tim opened his mouth and snapped it shut audibly. Jason watched him shake Dick’s hand with barely a blink.

‘Tim. Uh, Tim Drake. I’m really sorry about your…flamingo glasses…’

Dick waved the apology away, as though he hadn’t just been momentarily punched in the pupils and blinded.

‘I hope I didn’t scare you too much. If you’re hurt we can ask Alfred to have a look.’ Jason could have face-palmed.

Tim nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving Dick’s. ‘Wow, those are some cool contacts.’

Jason debated burying the kid in the garden.

‘You think?’ Dick laughed, body relaxing. ‘You’ve seen them now, so there’s no point lying. They’re not actually contacts,’ he tucked the broken frames of his shades in his jeans.

‘But you can’t tell anyone,’ Jason snapped.

Tim shook his head so hard it almost looked like he was trying to unscrew it from his neck. ‘Of course not. I swear on my life.’

‘You also owe him a new pair of glasses, brat.’

‡‡‡

Tim had been true to his word, much to Jason’s relief. The boy had plucked up the courage to knock, Jason finding him hurriedly talking Alfred’s ear off days later. He thought Bruce had been about to have a heart-attack when Dick bounded down the stairs, yellow eyes flashing, and cooed over the box of designer sunglasses and Halloween themed contacts Tim produced.

Within the space of a year, Jason had not only found one brother but begrudgingly adopted a second.

Even on Dick’s quietest days, and with Tim’s frantic need to defy sleep, Jason wouldn’t trade his new life for anything in the world.


End file.
